


Magnum Opus

by AuthoressofDarkness, Teddy1008



Series: Masterpiece [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Anal Fingering, BDSM, Corporal Punishment, Dom Tony Stark, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Human Trafficking, Humiliation, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Mafia Boss Tony Stark, Main pairing is still Tony/Peter despite the Bucky/Peter tag!, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Overstimulation, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Punishment, Smut, Spanking, Sub Peter Parker, Threesome - M/M/M, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:06:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29266959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuthoressofDarkness/pseuds/AuthoressofDarkness, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teddy1008/pseuds/Teddy1008
Summary: Magnum Opus.Masterpiece.That’s what he is: a masterpiece. A work of art, seemingly designed perfectly for him, and only for him.Now he just has to convince Peter of that.Or, the one where Peter is given to mafia boss Tony as a business gift. He quickly discovers that Tony Stark is, in fact, nothing like what he expected him to be.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Peter Parker, James "Bucky" Barnes/Peter Parker/Tony Stark, Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Series: Masterpiece [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2149356
Comments: 76
Kudos: 270





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! This is a fun little RP that we did together. We hope you enjoy! Please note that there is dubious consent in this fic.

Voices.

There were always voices, but Peter didn't know whose. He knew they concerned him though, because otherwise, he wouldn't be stuck in his current predicament: on his knees seemingly a few feet away from them, bound, gagged, and blindfolded. 

"...brought him for you," the man was saying. He probably looked as slimy as he sounded. Peter wouldn’t know; he hadn’t seen him, but he’d been hearing his voice for days. Hence why he’d dubbed him _Slimy_ in his head. "Figured it would be a nice way to thank you for the constant support."

"Well, you stay on my good side and good things come to you," a new voice drawled back. 

Peter shifted on his knees, trying to get as comfortable as he could on the cold, hard ground. So that was what this was. He was a _gift_. An offering to someone else, with absolutely no control or power to resist what was happening to him. He could tell the men around him were all Doms by the way they spoke, and knew he had no chance of escaping—at least not right now. So he just stayed there, quiet and still, the sound of his heart beating rapidly filling his ears. 

"Of course," Slimy responded, a grin in his voice. "Enjoy him. I made sure to pick one you would like. Hope he's up to your standards. Only the best for the great Tony Stark."

 _Holy fuck_. Peter was screwed, because here he was, about to be handed over to _Tony fucking Stark_.

The men exchanged a few more words before there were footsteps, and Peter knew that Slimy had left, effectively sealing his fate. He swallowed hard, then flinched when the blindfold was tugged off.

* * *

Tony fucking _hated_ slimy business men. 

Okay, he was a mob boss, so he’d done some pretty fucked up things himself. But this was a line even he didn’t cross. Usually.

But he didn’t say that. Realistically, there’d be no just letting this kid go, now, no matter what. And he needed a new bed warmer, anyway. The last... well, hadn’t ended well, and to say his men weren’t fond of his moods since then would be an understatement. 

The guy had fucked up bad enough he knew Tony would want to take a pound of flesh out of someone and that his bargain better be damn good. Well, color him surprised. This was the last thing he expected, but it caught him off guard enough that he let him walk out of here today. For now, at least.

Once the man’s footsteps had faded, Tony stood, taking his time crossing to the younger man on the floor. Tony wasn’t that old at 31, sure, but there was at least ten years between him and this... boy. If he had to guess, he was late teens, or barely out of them, so... yeah, ten to fifteen years. 

That shouldn’t turn him on, but it did. Remaining morals aside, this could yet be interesting.

He crouched in front of the boy, pulling off his blindfold with one firm tug of the knot. He’s silent for a long minute, studying him. The big brown doe eyes, the pretty—if bruised in a few spots—face, those pouty lips, wrapped around the gag. Gorgeous. Tony trailed a finger down his cheek, pressing his lips together.

“If you promise not to scream, I’ll take the gag out,” he said finally. “And I say don’t scream not because it would do anything for you, but because my head hurts from dealing with that asshole. Mind your tongue, and you can ask some questions. Got it?” He waited until he got a feeble nod before following through, but didn't immediately give him a chance to speak. “What's your name, kid?”

Peter swallowed hard, licking his dry lips. He was parched, but he was pretty sure he wasn’t about to be fed some water. He wasn’t even sure whether he wanted to be, either. He had no reason to trust anything that Tony gave him, for obvious reasons. 

When Tony raised an eyebrow impatiently, he hastened to answer. “Um. Peter.” He’d considered lying, but that wouldn’t have gotten him anywhere. “And you’re Tony Stark.” He still wasn’t over that. 

He shifted slightly, wincing. He was beginning to feel pins and needles in his legs and feet, but there was no way in hell he was about to ask if he could be released.

Tony hummed thoughtfully. _Peter_. It suits him. Like Peter rabbit. Cute. Warm. Soft. _Helpless._

He couldn’t help the way his lips turned up in a little smirk at the thought, and then a little more at the way the kid said his name. “So I am. Glad to see my name still holds some weight, even to the younger crowd.” 

He flicked his eyes over him, once, making a point of taking him in before returning to his eyes. “Do you know why you’re here, Peter?” The boy was obviously a sub, and he couldn’t imagine they did anything to disillusion the kid as to what, exactly, they were intending to sell him for.

Peter made a face at Tony's words, unable to help himself. "Yeah, well, everyone knows you. And it definitely isn't because you bake the best cakes in New York." He swallowed, then shook his head at the look on Tony's face, quickly moving on to answer the question. _Keep your sass to yourself, Peter_. He wouldn't put it past Tony to do... _something_ if he didn't like what Peter said, and he wasn't eager to find out what it might be. 

"I'm your _gift_ ," he said flatly, with no emotion. "That's what Slimy told you. I don't suppose you'll be letting me go? No chance that big bad scary Tony Stark is just a bedtime story parents tell their kids to scare them?" 

Yep, there he went again, running his mouth when he couldn't afford to. It really wasn't his fault, though. When he was panicking, his mental filter disappeared and his words didn't even register in his mind until after they'd come out of his mouth.

Tony couldn’t help the grin that slowly spread across his face. Oh. _Oh._ The boy had some cheek. This would be fun. 

His surprise showed on his face for not even a second before he cleared his expression again, though the smile remained. “Slimy, huh? Cute.” He paused, considering his words carefully before addressing the rest of Peter’s statement. “And yes. You were a gift. And as you so astutely noted, a lot of people know who I am. So how would it look if I let a pretty little thing like you just... walk? Knowing things? Having seen the inside of my place of business? _Especially_ since you were a gift? Even if you didn’t go to the police—which we both know is unlikely. 

“And I’ll let the sass go—this time. But just remember, only dish out what you can take back, sweetheart.” Tony stood up, taking Peter’s arm and guiding the boy into his feet. “Come. Walk with me, and we’ll get you out of those binds and dirty clothes. I’m sure you’d like to be clean, hm?”

Peter swallowed at the thinly veiled threat, and chose not to acknowledge it. He just nodded, a bit hesitant, but not wanting to show any sign of weakness. Although, considering he was trussed up and completely vulnerable, there was really no point in hiding it away. 

"Yes," he eventually settled on saying, tensing at Tony's grip on his arm. It was firm. "That would... be nice." 

And it would be, except Peter still had no fucking idea what Tony was going to do to him.

Tony felt the way the boy tensed when he grabbed him, but it was only to be expected, he supposed. He wasn’t not offended. He did have a reputation for being highly dangerous, after all—and one he quite _liked_ , at that.

They passed through Tony’s bedroom to his private bathroom, locks clicking in place automatically behind them. Tony never messed around with security. He paid the big bucks to make sure it was good and that it worked well. Only a few people had the access to the most secure parts of the house, and when it came to his quarters… well, no one would be getting in or out of here after he locked it without cutting out Tony’s eye or chopping off his finger, which was just how he liked it. 

When they arrived in the bathroom, Tony casually pulled a switchblade from his pocket, and he sliced through Peter’s bonds like nothing. But he kept a firm grip on his arm, making him look at him. “You only get as much independence as I allow, Peter, so I wouldn’t suggest fucking it up.” He pocketed the knife. “Get undressed while I ready the water.” He turned to the tub to start him some bath water.

Peter hesitated, mouth going even more dry at the command. He was... _shit_. He didn't want to strip. Not in front of Tony, who was quite potentially the most dangerous man in all of New York City. 

_Which is why it's even worse to disobey him_ , he told himself sharply, and his reprimand was confirmed when Tony flashed him an unimpressed look upon seeing him still dressed.

Peter quickly pulled off his shirt, and then his pants. He slipped off his socks with no problem, but his hands lingered by his boxers uncertainly, heart still beating fast and hard.

Tony wasn’t surprised when Peter didn’t immediately obey—but he wasn’t impressed by the resistance, either. Peter would end up naked one way or the other; but he wasn’t particularly in the mood to force him. His head really did hurt. 

Fortunately, on second glance, he had at least started to obey. Tony turned around, leaning against the edge of the tub and crossing his arms. He watched him for a minute, then snapped his fingers. _Too slow_. “Let’s go, Peter. Do you think I have all day?”

Peter flinched and shook his head mutely, then—fuck it. He dropped his boxers, trying to subtly cover himself, and looked up at Tony, who was not so subtly eyeing him. He swallowed hard and clenched his trembling fists.

"Sorry?" he offered in a pathetic attempt to appease the clearly pissed off man. He probably didn't sound like he meant it from the heart though.

The boy lacked any subtly at all, though certainly not for lack of trying. And Tony wasn’t one for apologies and moving on, especially when it was blatantly insincere. 

Tony grabbed his arm, pulling him forward until he was right in front of him. He smoothed his arms down to his sides with gentle but insistent force, reminding himself to be somewhat patient. It would take time to train him into obedience.

“Don’t apologize when you don’t mean it. That’s only going to make me angry.” His voice was calm, but serious, brokering no room for argument or denial about the apology. “Don’t hide from me, and don’t try to deny me. The best thing for you is to obey, do you understand?” 

"Yessir," Peter mumbled, then flushed at the honorific because _shit_ , where had that come from? Probably the sheer amount of dominance that Tony was emitting; it was driving his instincts haywire. 

Tony straightened and inclined his head to the bath. “Good. Now get in the tub.”

Biting his lip, Peter stepped into the tub and was surprised to find it a pleasant temperature. He'd half been expecting either scalding hot or freezing cold. Tony Stark didn't really seem like the type of man to indulge in anything else but binaries. 

He sat still, unsure of what to do next. Was he expected to wash himself? Or duck his head under the water? Was Tony going to put bubbles in the bath? He almost smiled at the prospect. But when he turned to Tony, all he ended up asking was, "Is this the point where you waterboard me?"

The honorific followed by the immediate sass almost caught Tony off guard for a moment. _Almost._ His lips twitched. 

“If I were going to waterboard you, you’d be tied to a table, not free moving in a tub full of water. Waterboarding just convinces your body that you’re not getting enough oxygen, not actually submerges you in water,” Tony deadpanned. “At least accuse me of plotting the right kind of torture.”

He checked his watch and threw a rag in the tub for the boy. “I have a phone call to make. You get cleaned up. I’ll be right outside the door, so get clean and get out, understand?” He set a towel on the sink for him. “Else maybe actually waterboarding you will be your punishment.” Then he walked out the door, returning to his room. 

Peter blinked at finding himself alone in the bathroom. He stared at the rag that floated sadly in the water, slowly sinking, and reached out to pull it towards him. Absentmindedly, he began to get himself cleaned up.

He had almost half a mind just to see if he could take a peek out the door, but knew that was just plain fucking stupid. He definitely didn’t think Tony was lying about waiting for him on the other side, and he wasn’t eager to find out how waterboarding would really feel. 

He grabbed the soap and scrubbed his skin, as though he could wash off the feeling of the ropes and Tony’s grip by doing so. It didn’t work, no matter how hard he scrubbed. 

When he was done, he got out of the tub and wrapped up in the towel Tony had set out for him. There weren’t any clothes in there, however, which left Peter to emerge in only the towel.

Tony was sitting on the bed, propped up against the headboard and typing away. He’d left him to bathe in peace. The kid didn’t come off as suicidal immediately, so he didn’t feel the need to sit in and babysit him. And the only way out of the bathroom was right into here, since Tony’s space is completely private, so he wasn’t too worried.

He didn’t even look up when Peter entered. “Dry off, hang that up, and come get in bed. I ordered us food. I hope you like Chinese.” 

He threw out the list of orders just to see if the kid would obey. He really had ordered food, though. He was obviously malnourished and dehydrated; had to be, having been locked up like he’d arrived for God only knew how long before coming here. Hell, even if it was only a few hours, he still had to be hungry and thirsty by now.

Peter quietly obeyed. Now that he realized Tony wasn’t going to kill him right then and there (hopefully), he wasn’t panicking as much so his thoughts were clearer. 

He had to play his cards right. If he wanted to get out of here—and he was going to, eventually—he had to come off as good, _be_ good. Win Tony’s trust, then get the fuck out of there. 

He still hesitated for a split second, nearly asking Tony if he could have something to wear, but then gave up. It was obviously a power play, and he refused to feed into it any more than he had to. 

With a small sigh, he clambered onto the bed and sat stiffly, putting a fair distance between him and the other man.

Tony noticed the distance, of course, but he didn’t immediately comment on it. It was only natural. Again, he’d train him out of it, eventually, but right now, he’d be patient. 

He worked in silence until someone knocked on the door. Then he got up, answering it and taking the bag with their food. He set it on the bed and retrieved two water bottles from his mini fridge, offering one to Peter. “Pick a box. Eat.” If he let him pick what he ate, then it wouldn’t make sense for him to think it was poisoned.

Peter eyed him suspiciously after taking the bottle of water, then reached out to pick a box at random. It was shrimp stir fry, which he actually enjoyed. 

He didn’t eat yet though, just watching Tony for a moment before cautiously spooning some rice into his mouth. His stomach growled in response, like it was complaining that he was eating too slow, and he flushed. 

Hesitantly, Peter asked, “So, what exactly is this? What... why are we eating together?”

Tony closed his laptop after a few more minutes, allowing Peter the time to pick first and start eating, then reached in the bag to take a box of his own. He didn’t even care what it was, really. 

He glanced over at Peter when he spoke, and raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean, _why_? I recognize you see me as a living myth, but I still need to eat.” He knew what Peter was actually getting at, of course, but he wanted to get the boy talking.

Peter scowled. “That’s not what I meant. Is everything a joke to you?” 

He wasn’t usually so bitchy, but hey, he’d just been handed over to someone like a piece of property instead of a human being with _rights_ , and was being kept butt-naked, so he figured he had some leeway.

Tony looked him over and smirked. “Funny things are,” he quipped, and then flashed him a dangerous smirk. “But no. Of course I know what you mean. But what are you wanting me to say? You know I can’t let you go. You know why you were given to me. I didn’t realize that you were going to be so set on hating me for it that you’d prefer for me to just start jumping your bones immediately.” 

When Peter didn’t respond, he took a bite of food and shrugged. “Of course, I _could_ just tie you up, take what I want, deny you food, water, independence, any number of other things. Would be a lot less work and trouble for me. If that’s what you prefer—or should you force my hand—there’s no reason I _have_ to be civil or humane.”

Peter swallowed hard, suddenly regretting the bitchy comment he’d made. He wanted to move on, just brush past it, but he knew that wasn’t what Tony would be looking for. Lowering his gaze—whether it was from submission or fear, he didn’t even know—he said lowly, “No thank you. Sorry.” He stumbled over the last word; it tasted bitter on his tongue, but he got it out. 

Tony hummed, taking another bite of food before answering. “I told you not to apologize when you don’t mean it,” he reminded him, the warning mild but there. He wasn’t in the mood to act on it, but he still felt the need to remind him. 

Peter flushed and nodded, biting back the urge to apologize again by sipping his bottle of water, just to stall. Then he asked, tentatively, “If you aren’t going to let me go, what _are_ you going to do with me?” He had his suspicions, and he wasn’t sure whether he wanted them confirmed.

“What do _you_ think I’m going to do with you?” Tony asked in reply, turning the question back on him. He was curious whether he’d be honest about the answer or not.

Peter flushed. “I’m your eye candy?” he guessed half-heartedly, making Tony snort. He poked at the suddenly sad looking food with his spoon, and said resignedly, “You want something from me. But I don’t know if I can do it.” 

Not that he really had a choice, though.

Tony couldn’t help the snort that left him at the obviously unenthusiastic answer. He obviously didn’t believe it—but he was right, partially.

“To some extent.” Tony set his container aside, finished, and turned to face Peter directly. He reached out, tilting the boy’s head up. “I want a lot of things from you. Which isn’t to say that I would have _chosen_ this arrangement, and I apologize for what happened to you. But even if I let you go, you’d end up dead.” 

He shrugged, letting his hand drop to Peter’s knee. “I’m going to make your life very simple. I figure you’d rather be a pet than an object—though I could arrange the other quite quickly. So long as you obey me, you may even enjoy your time with me. But that shouldn’t be too hard for an intuitive little sub like you. Especially once you’re ready to drop and _need_ a Dom to make you feel better.”

Peter bit back the fifty different things he wanted to say in response to that, and just let the sour taste in his mouth linger for a few minutes until he swallowed it away. “And what do I get out of being good?” He refused to call himself Tony’s pet. “A high-five?” 

He shifted positions so that his back was straight and shot a challenging look at Tony. “What if you want something but I’m not in the mood for it? Does the great Tony Stark stoop to rape? I mean, I guess you condone it already, so I don’t even know why I asked.” He ran a hand agitatedly through his hair.

Tony looked him over, thoughtfully, then tilted his head. Alright, if he wanted to get too smart, Tony could douse his fire real quick. 

“Oh, honey, you’ve _no idea,_ ” he drawled. “First of all, what do you get out of behaving? Living to see another day instead of being put down like a naughty puppy, for starters. And second... pleasure? Food? Comfort? All the things you’ll sorely miss when I take them away. 

“And you’re getting a bit ahead of yourself, aren’t you?” Tony gripped his leg, other hand tightening in his hair and pulling it back to make him look him in the eyes. “ _Rape_ implies you’re anything besides an animal or an object. That’s a right you’ll have to earn, as is _choice_. I _own_ you, don’t forget.”

Peter swallowed hard over the lump in his throat, but didn’t break eye contact. 

Tony didn’t either. 

Eventually, all Peter said was, “And what’s happening after dinner? TV? Sleep?” when in reality what he really wanted to ask was, _What can I do to make sure you don’t kill me?_

He was just _so fucking confused_. He didn’t know Tony very well, didn’t know what made him snap—besides that obvious, that was. How was he supposed to _earn_ his rights when he didn’t even know how he was expected to behave? He felt a shudder run through him at the realization—no, the _fear_ —that he was already giving in.

Tony let his hair go after a long moment, stuffing their trash back in the bag like nothing had happened and setting it aside. 

“Sleep,” he said simply. “It’s late, I’m tired. You’ll lay here with me and rest.” 

He’s not in the mood for anything tonight. Again, he could do things, if he wanted to, but he doesn’t want to. He wants to rest—and to see how well Peter will listen. He doubts it’s all that well, realistically. 

“We’ll talk more about rules and logistics tomorrow. Just get some rest.” With that, Tony turned off the light.

Peter was stiff for a while. He just laid in bed, completely still, until his muscles ached in protest. He could hear Tony’s breathing next to him, slow and steady, but couldn’t tell if he was asleep or just pretending to be. 

It was too risky to try and snoop around—or worse, run away—now, so he just closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep. 

It didn’t work for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Let us know what you thought in the comments because comments are crack to writers!
> 
> Feel free to visit us on tumblr:
> 
> Teddy1008's [Tumblr](https://snowstark.tumblr.com/)  
> AuthoressofDarkness' [Tumblr](https://authoressofdarkness.tumblr.com)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He grumpily picked out a book at random and dragged his feet over to his seat. “Why do you live in the middle of fucking nowhere anyways?”
> 
> “Just so pretty boys like you have nowhere to go,” Tony drawled. “Now sit, and stop being a grumpy puppy before I take your toys away and give you a reason to whine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy this new chapter :)

When Peter woke up the next morning, he panicked at the unfamiliar room he was in until he remembered everything that had happened. _Shit_. So that hadn’t just been a nightmare. 

He slowly got up, joints popping as he stretched, and looked to his left to find Tony staring at him. He froze. “Um. Morning.” His heart was beating fast again; god, he was never gonna get used to waking up next to Tony Stark. 

Tony was already sitting up and wide awake, perfectly calm, though still sitting in bed. He was an early riser, and a light sleeper, though that didn’t mean that he wanted to move as soon as he opened his eyes if he could help it. And he certainly wasn’t leaving Peter alone, asleep or not, so here he was.

He looked down at him, amused. “Good morning. Glad to see you’re finally awake.” He went back to typing on his computer, leaving him to lay there for a few minutes in peace while he woke up.

Peter pulled the sheets up closer to his chin, suddenly feeling self-conscious and incredibly naked as the sunlight streamed in brightly, lighting up the entire room. “What time is it?” he asked, tugging the sheets up the slightest bit more.

Tony hummed, sparing a glance at his computer clock. “9 AM.” He shrugged. “If you’re hungry, I’ll have one of my men bring in breakfast.” He rarely ate breakfast, consuming mainly coffee for the first several hours of the day. Or until dinner, sometimes, but that was... irrelevant. 

“I’ve got some work to do over the next few days, so we won’t get much of a chance to relax until the weekend. You’ll accompany me in large part.” Since his office was still in his house and his big business deals were over for the week, it was plenty safe for him to, and he’s smart enough to want him in his line of sight for most of the day.

Peter nodded. “Not hungry,” he said, because he really wasn't. Maybe it was from waking up in a strange place, but he had no appetite whatsoever. 

Tony frowned a little, wondering if Peter was being obstinate or was just genuinely not hungry. He decided not to push it for now, since it was possible he wasn’t, but he wasn’t going to let him just not eat forever. 

He didn’t let his turmoil show on his face, though. Instead, he just shrugged. “Fine, don’t eat this morning.” He turned back to his laptop. “We’ll go to my office, shortly.” 

Peter sat back and peered at Tony's laptop. "What are you doing?" he asked, as much to change the subject as genuine curiosity. If he was going to escape, he might as well try to figure out what Tony did and how things worked around here. 

All he had to do was stay respectful (ew) and pretend to be obedient (gross). Which was going to be _so_ fun.

Tony didn’t really react to Peter glancing at his screen. He just closed the laptop and stood up. “Work. Nothing you need to worry about, particularly.”

Peter stood up, imitating Tony's movements. He watched the man for a moment before asking, "Do I get clothes now? It's cold." It wasn't, really, but he just felt oddly vulnerable. Plus, he didn't know who could walk in on them, and while the people probably wouldn't even blink an eye at Tony's new _pet_ , he still cared. "And do I get anything to do, or am I just expected to follow you around like a duckling?"

Tony narrowed his eyes at him, considering it. He doubted he was actually cold, but Peter had been fairly well behaved thus far, so he indulged him, just a little. He went into the closet and pulled out one of his sweatshirts from the back—giant on Peter, but it’ll be plenty warm and more than enough coverage for now. 

He came back out and tossed the sweatshirt to him. “There. That should suffice for where we’re going. And yes, that’s exactly what you’ll do. If you can prove to me you can behave, then I’ll start giving you privileges. You haven’t gotten there yet.” He shrugged.

Peter scowled, but put on the sweatshirt. It was _huge_ , and it only reinforced the idea in his mind that Tony was so much bigger and _stronger_ than him. He would really have to start where Tony was letting him—proving himself by behaving. Gross. 

He looked up, hiding his fists in his sweat paws, and muttered a grudging, "Thank you."

Tony chuckled. “Sound even more sincere, would it kill you?” He couldn’t help but tease, though he’s surprised the boy even said that. He flashed a smirk, heading into the closet just long enough to change into a suit before returning and picking up his laptop. “Come on. Let's go.”

Peter followed obediently, though he couldn't help but say wryly, "So, you get to wear a whole suit, while I'm in nothing but a sweater that comes right down to mid-thigh?" If the wind blew hard enough, his bare naked ass would probably be on display. "Sounds totally fair." He wasn't even really bitching from irritation, he was just bitching for the sake of bitching. He had a sneaking suspicion it would be a good idea to see how far he could push Tony without getting smacked. 

When they stepped into the office, Peter paused to take in his surroundings. It was large and surprisingly cozy enough for a deadly mafia boss, which was mildly unexpected. Somehow, he'd been expecting Tony to live in something that resembled a dungeon. "Where do I sit and look pretty?" He mockingly batted his eyelashes.

Tony suppressed a sigh when Peter started popping off again immediately. He wasn’t really surprised, of course, but he wasn’t oblivious to the fact Peter is trying to test his limits, which means Tony needed to decide where to set them. Fast. 

“Because I’m in charge,” Tony said flatly. “And I’ve given you more than your share of _fair_ for the morning considering you’ve done nothing but sass me since you arrived. Now, if you don’t watch your mouth, I’ll make you sit in my lap.” He showed no outward signs of irritation, the words warning enough.

Peter flushed at Tony's words, feelings his cheeks warm up. Ducking his head, he murmured, "Sorry," making sure to sound genuinely contrite this time. He shivered because holy _fuck,_ Tony was the most dominant person he'd ever met throughout the entire course of his sad little life. 

“No, but really, do I just... sit on the floor while you work?” He bit his lip and chanced a look at one of the books on Tony's bookshelf longingly. He was pretty sure he saw a science book there, and his hands were itching to take a look at it. "I don't suppose I could read?"

Tony settled in his desk chair, glancing at him in surprise when this apology actually sounded _marginally_ genuine. He considered, eyes following the line of Peter’s to the bookshelf. 

He’d been decently good, all things considered. And maybe it would make him shut up for a while, so he could work in peace. 

“Fine, yes, pick a book. Grab a pillow from one of the chairs and come sit here.” He pointed to the floor beside him.

Peter beamed, a genuine smile appearing on his face. He hadn't been expecting that Tony would actually let him, which just went to show him that if he behaved, he really would get what he wanted. That was something he could use to his advantage.

He headed straight for the bookshelf and ran his fingers across the spines of the hardcovers, then picked out the one he'd been eyeing since coming into the office. It was a book about quantum physics, which he was more than eager to delve into. 

Grabbing the indicated pillow, he dropped it near Tony and sat down with a grimace. His excitement was dulled a bit at the prospect of sitting at the man's feet like a dog, but he didn't voice those feelings. Instead, all he said was, "Thank you."

Tony just nodded, settling in and opening his laptop. He was a bit surprised at Peter’s choice of book, but he didn’t say so. He made a mental note of it, though. Perhaps they had more in common than he realized.

“Get comfortable. We’ll be here a while,” was all he said, then dove into work. After a bit he dropped his hand down to pet Peter’s hair, mindlessly, but didn’t try to touch him any other way.

Peter stiffened at first when he felt a hand on his hair, but gradually relaxed when he realized Tony wasn’t going to hurt him. It actually felt sort of nice, and relaxing. Not that he would admit it, of course. 

He just focused on his book, turning the pages until he reached the end. He was surprised that he’d managed to finish the whole thing, but then again, he always had been a fast reader. He looked up at Tony with mild curiosity, then said, “I’m done,” trying to see what would happen next.

Tony had been deep in work for a few hours by that point, and he’d hardly paid any attention to Peter, since the boy hadn’t really moved. He blinked, startled from deep concentration when he spoke, and looked down at him. “Really?” He was surprised, but amused. “Okay. Pick another.” He turns back to the computer.

Peter grinned, _knowing_ that he took Tony by surprise, and got up to pick out another book. He lingered longer by the bookshelf this time after shelving it. He liked reading, but he was _bored._ He was in the mood to go for a jog, not sit and be pet like a puppy. 

He glanced over his shoulder at Tony, then made his way over to the office window, peering outside. There wasn’t much to see, just... grass.

Tony looked back at him when he didn’t return immediately, watching him for a moment before speaking. “Not much to see, is there?” he deadpanned, accidentally echoing Peter’s thoughts. “You can stare all day, but you’re not going to find a way out. Now, come on.”

Peter turned back around, fidgeting uncomfortably with his fingers. "I wasn't trying to find a way out," he said defensively, knowing just how sullen he sounded. "I'm just bored." And now he was whining. He grumpily picked out a book at random and dragged his feet over to his seat. “Why do you live in the middle of fucking nowhere anyways?”

“Just so pretty boys like you have nowhere to go,” Tony drawled. “Now sit, and stop being a grumpy puppy before I take your toys away and give you a reason to whine.” He turned back to his computer. “I’ll be done in a while.”

With a scowl, Peter obeyed and sat down. His heart was beating fast though, because shit, when he made his escape, where the hell was he gonna run to? He was quickly losing hope. 

He stared at the unopened book in front of him—this one was on Newton's laws, which, boring. He knew all of that anyways. "I don't want to read this one," he said petulantly. "It's gonna put me to sleep. I want to get a different one."

“Then get a different one and come straight back,” Tony told him, sounding distracted, already deep in work again. He didn’t even look over at him, trying to read through a contract. He had more important things to worry about right now, and his patience was starting to waver when Peter was obviously being purposely petulant.

Tony didn’t _mean_ to slip into his Dom tone, and usually he was better at controlling it than this. But Peter was just so naturally submissive that he brought it out of him, especially when he resisted. 

He almost felt bad, suppressing any bodily autonomy that the boy had left through his biology. But he was _trying._ Peter just made it so damn _hard._

Like the smart boy he was, Peter caught the warning in his tone and hastily got up to switch out his book for another that was called "The Theories of Time Travel." He'd never read it before and certainly didn't think time travel was even possible, but it looked interesting and he knew it would keep his mind occupied enough to not get on Tony's nerves any more than he already had. 

Tony had a lot of books on science and math, Peter thought as he absentmindedly opened to the first page once he sat back down. The man was smart, Peter knew that. Everyone knew that. If he wasn't as smart as he was, he wouldn't be the most feared mafia boss in all of NYC. 

The man's typing was music to his ears as he read; it was nice to have something besides absolute silence, because _that_ was something that would almost certainly result in him running his mouth far too much for his own good. He just had to remember that Tony was a _Dom,_ and therefore he could do much more to Peter than Peter could to Tony. Biology sucked. 

Peter read quietly, and the silence between them was only broken when his stomach let out a pitiful growl.

Tony finished up with his contract right around the time Peter’s stomach started growling. He looked down at him, checked his watch, and sighed, grabbing his phone. 

“Send this contract back to Pepper and tell her I don’t want to see it again until all my red tape is gone,” he said curtly. “You’ve succeeded in giving me a headache, I’m done for the day. I’m taking the pup out for food. Emergency calls only.” Then, he hung up and shut his computer, finally standing up and stretching with a groan.

“Is the pup me?” Peter asked dryly, already knowing the response. “Does my _Master_ want a massage now? Or do you want me to lick your boots? I have to earn my food somehow, don’t I?” He snorted.

Tony spun around to face him, narrowing his eyes. “Who else would the pup be? I don’t have another cute little sub that enjoys head scratches anywhere around here,” he deadpanned. “And I’ve _certainly_ got some things in mind for you to lick, if you’re that orally fixated, but I was going to feed you, first. Mainly because _I_ am also hungry.” He flashed him a wicked grin. “Let’s go.”

Peter simultaneously blushed and scowled. "Why do you always have a comeback?" he huffed. "You never lose an argument, huh?" He trotted after Tony at his heels, feeling exactly like the puppy Tony kept calling him. "What're we eating? And what're we doing for the rest of today?" He stopped to take a deep breath.

“If I was prone to losing arguments, I probably wouldn’t have a business,” Tony agreed. He led him down to his garage, not particularly caring that the boy wasn't dressed since he wouldn’t be leaving the car. “And I was going to let you have a say, but you’re awfully mouthy, so I think I’ll pick.” 

He didn’t bother to answer his last question. Truthfully, he hadn’t decided yet, but he wouldn’t tell him even if he had. He opened the passenger door of one of the cars, motioning that he should get in.

Peter froze and stared at the car for a few seconds before saying tentatively, "Can I at least get some underwear?" He grimaced after the question, hoping that even if Tony said yes, he wouldn't just throw the boxers he'd been wearing at him yesterday. 

Tony didn’t miss a beat. “No. You have no need for them, and frankly you’ll be lucky to keep the sweatshirt when we get back. Now get _in,_ Peter.” This time he slipped into a little bit of a growl on purpose.

"Fuck, okay." Peter flinched at that, and hastily got in, wincing at the odd feeling of bare skin on the seats. At least it wasn't leather. He sat quietly as Tony shut the door behind him, and waited for... whatever was to come next.

Tony’s car interior was luxurious, like everything else around them, and so he didn’t really care. Besides, the sweatshirt came down to the boy’s thighs; he wasn’t _that_ exposed.

He said nothing as he got into his seat and fired up the car, not bothering to say much of anything as they drove. Eventually he pulled into the nearest Sonic, ordering for both of them and then getting comfortable while he waited on the food. “So.”

Peter looked up when Tony spoke with a gulp. "So?" he prodded cautiously. Was this the point where he got smacked for sassing too much?

Tony could see the nerves rolling in the kid and can’t help but smirk a little. So full of sass—but so worried about the repercussions, too. 

He paused just long enough to get their food from the lady who brought it out, and passed Peter’s bag and drink to him before continuing. “So,” he said again, as he opened his burger. “You finished a quantum physics book in four hours and got pretty deep into time travel theories in two. Where’s the interest come from?”

Peter hesitated, stalling for time by looking into his bag. Dutifully pulling his food out, he said reluctantly, "I dunno, I mean, I guess it's just something I've always enjoyed. I always did the best in science classes in high school. Probably would've majored in physics too, if I'd actually been able to afford going to college." He began to eat, glancing at Tony warily before saying, "And what about your interest? You're the one who _owns_ those books, you know."

Tony hummed. Now they were getting somewhere. 

He had any number of resources to find out who Peter was, his past, anything else he wanted to know. But he wanted to hear it from Peter.

The simple answer told him many things. A - Peter hasn’t been trafficked around for long, if he’d completed high school and still remembered bits of his life before. B - He came from a poorer family, which probably explained part of _why_ it had been so easy to kidnap him. C - He was _smart._ And Tony liked that. 

And maybe most importantly, D - He didn’t hate Tony so much that it can’t be pushed to the back of his mind, at least temporarily. Interesting. 

“I know everyone knows me as a mob boss, but believe it or not, I—and most of my team—are also highly educated. The bookshelf you found was mostly old college books. I have many more shelves of those, and many other books.”

Peter was unable to help but perk up at that, feeling a spark of interest stir inside him. He'd never really had the opportunity to get his hands on such books, and now that they were accessible... "Really?" he said, trying not to seem desperate. "Do you, um, do you still read them? And stuff?" In other words: _do you read them often enough for me to be able to read them?_

Tony hummed, glad that they had found something they can talk about. “Every once in a while. But I’ve kept all of them. But I have several PhDs, so there’s all kinds of books you could read. Maybe we could get you enrolled in online classes,” he said thoughtfully. It would be dependent on his behavior, of course, but it was certainly possible.

Peter did a double take at that, because wait, _what?_ He spluttered on his drink and coughed, trying to regain his composure. “What?” he croaked. “I’m—what?” This entire situation was getting more confusing the more they talked. Wasn’t he just here for... sex?

Tony cracked a dry smile, taking a bite of food to give him a moment before answering. He shouldn’t be surprised at the reaction, but—okay, yeah, maybe it stung a little. Not that there was any reason for it to. He’d had the kid around for all of a day; of course he didn’t know anything about him to make him think of him as anything besides evil. 

He cleared his throat after a minute. “I know it’s easier for you to think of me as a bad guy, Peter. And I _am,_ sure. But I don’t treat my people badly unless they give me a reason to.” He tilted his head. “Neither of us chose this, I recognize that, and you wouldn’t be the first of my people that I’ve paid for their education. But I would _need_ to trust you before we could ever get that far, so in the meantime, I’ll give you some books. Some of the boys can tutor you.” He shrugged, taking another bite of food.

"The boys," Peter mused absentmindedly. Who were the boys? The ones who did Tony's dirty work on the street, following every command without a moment of hesitation? Tony was speaking about this all as if Peter was in a position to trust all of them, to feel like he wasn't in danger every second of the day. 

Tony was also talking to him like he'd be staying here forever. In an odd, twisted way, that made him want to get out even more, solely to show that he could prove the great Tony Stark wrong. Another part of him, one that he didn't necessarily want to pay attention to, wanted to stay. How fucked up was that? He was here after being trafficked, and he was reconsidering his position all for a degree or two. Pathetic. 

He was all too aware that his emotions were showing on his face; he'd never been one to have a good poker face. He remembered how Uncle Ben had always teased him about it, and suddenly, he felt sorrow swell someplace deep inside of him. Uncle Ben and Aunt May. He didn't even know where they were. Hell, he didn't even know where _he_ was. They were probably worried out of their minds, looking for him. Would they have gone to the police? If they had, would that do any good for him? 

Didn't Tony have connections _everywhere?_ Did that include the police? 

He kept the garbage on his lap, trying to cover his lap in vain. He still felt self-conscious with only a sweater on while Tony was beside him, dressed immaculately from head to toe.

Tony finished off his food and shoved the trash into the bag, setting it aside so it was out of his way and they could get back to the house. He wasn’t keen on keeping Peter out for too long just yet. 

Still, there was one other thing they really needed to talk about. He glanced over at Peter. The boy had obviously been deep in thought since they stopped talking. 

“Peter.” He paused, waiting patiently until his attention was on him again before continuing. “I need to know how far you are from dropping.” 

Subs were especially prone to getting sick if they suppressed their instincts for prolonged periods of time, and especially if he’d been passed around a trafficking ring for long, it was likely Peter had been for a while.

Peter's mouth went dry at the question and he hesitated, feeling unsure on how honestly he should be answering Tony's question. What if he told the truth and Tony took advantage of it? On the other hand, what if he lied and Tony found out? Now _that_ would be a proper shitstorm. 

In the end, all he said was, "I don't know," and that wasn't a lie, because he really didn't know, _because_ he wasn't willing to delve into it. "Why? Are you getting bored? You need entertainment?" The words and what he was implying made him feel sick, but he got them out nonetheless.

Tony shot him a sideways look, feeling a flash of irritation. He could understand Peter’s hesitation. But he was really _trying_ here, damnit. And this was his health they were talking about; literal life or death, depending on how long it’d been. 

“No, I’m not _getting bored._ But in case you forgot, you can literally _die_ if you drop too hard after too long, Peter. Call me whatever you like for it; I don’t care. But I need to know if, when, and how hard I should be expecting you to drop, because I am trying to give you _some_ bodily autonomy, which we both know you’ll abuse to the fullest extent if I’ll let you. I realize you don’t want to be here, but surely it’s a better alternative than death. And I’m not talking about a quick one at the hands of my gun. I don’t think I need to explain to you how badly you can suffer, or how long, should you push it.” 

Peter swallowed hard at the words, feeling a flash of fear run through him. Because shit, as much as he didn't want to admit it, Tony was _right._ This _was_ life or death, and in a weird way, Tony was trying to _help_ him. 

He suddenly felt regret at how he'd responded, and he dropped his head to stare his hands, which he'd clenched into fists—he seemed to be doing that a lot lately. 

Knowing that Tony was still waiting for an adequate response, he said softly, "I know. I... sorry. I'm just. Yeah," he finished lamely, cutting himself off from saying _I'm just scared._ "I can't remember the last time I went into subspace. I really don't remember, I promise. And because I haven't ever really _dropped_ before, I..." He paused, hesitating, then admitted, "I don't know my own limits very well."

Tony swore under his breath. Well. That wasn’t very helpful. 

Of course, it was good to _know_ that he didn’t remember or know these things. But that didn’t do much for Tony trying to help him. 

“Alright.” He let out a breath, considering his options. “It’s okay for you to be scared, Peter. I understand, truly. But that’s... not good. Is there anything you _do_ know?” He needed some kind of starting point.

Peter hesitated, then said meekly, "Well, I know what it feels like when I need to go into subspace. I just can't put it into words that well. Like, I get a little more sensitive to Dom voices and when I'm touched and stuff like that. Tony, I—Sir?" He stopped, suddenly confused on what he was supposed to be even calling the man. He'd never really referred to him verbally yet. "I don't... I don't know why you keep asking, though." Why did Tony even care? "Is it just because you take care of your shit?"

“Let’s stick with Sir or Mr. Stark for now,” Tony said calmly, waving away the error. Again, respect was something to be earned, in that regard, and Peter definitely wasn’t there yet. Constantly reminding himself with the honorific could do him some good. 

“And...” He had to stop and think for a moment at the question. Why did he care? “Yes. Partially. And partially because you shouldn’t have to suffer when you’re living in a house full of Doms. And other reasons, but really, it doesn’t matter _why_ I care. All that matters is that you give me honest answers and we get you taken care of. How do you feel, now?” He let his tone be a bit more commanding toward the end, wanting to see how he’d react.

Peter found himself hunching in on himself at Tony’s tone, and gave a small nod. Take care of him? He wasn’t sure if he _wanted_ to be taken care of, but he didn’t really seem to have a say in this. 

“Mr. Stark,” he said, just to test it out. “I... I feel okay. I guess.” He paused, then corrected himself. “A little restless.” He sidled a glance at Tony hesitantly, then said, “I don’t lie to make you mad. It’s just… reflex.”

Tony sighed. “I know you don’t. No one _wants_ to get in trouble. But it's a reflex to lie when you’re scared. Still, from now on, you tell me the truth, understand?” 

He paused, not really expecting an answer—or an honest confirmation, really—but considering. Frankly, he didn’t have much time to deal with Peter tonight. Or the rest of the week. 

“Alright. Here’s what we’re going to do. I have more work to do yet tonight, and my week is fully booked, unfortunately. So, we _have_ to keep it simple because I can’t dedicate the time needed to dominate you the way you need just yet. So this weekend, barring you dropping before then—we’ll go somewhere, spend a few days figuring out your limits and all of that.” Tony looked over at him, waiting to see his response to that.

Peter blinked, confused. Tony was throwing a lot at him, and he was beginning to feel a little disoriented. He’d honestly expected the man to use him as a little punching bag, not try and care for him in fear that he would drop. Weird. 

“Um. Go where?” he asked tentatively. Tony’s words sounded a bit ominous. “And Mr. Stark? Can I ask a question?”

Tony shrugged, thinking about it. “I’ll figure it out sometime this week.” He had a few ideas in mind, but nothing too crazy. He just had to find out what's available and all. “And yeah, go ahead.” Since he asked so politely.

“You mean like, we’re going to the Bahamas?” Peter joked half-heartedly, then sobered up. “That’s not my question. I wanted to ask if... could I have more things to do when you’re busy? I just... I usually end up getting into trouble when I get bored.” 

He hated how meek he sounded, but he wasn’t going to get what he wanted through demands. Besides, he really _was_ desperate for something to do. He’d go mad if he didn’t have stuff to work on, to keep himself busy.

“Bahamas is kinda hard to organize in two days, even for me,” Tony admitted, amused. “But it’ll be somewhere nice.” And private, but he didn’t know if saying so was the best way to reassure him. “We’ll gather you up some books, for sure. Maybe I’ll have Bucky write you up some mock-coursework.” He shrugged. “Give you something to keep your brain busy. Some of the men go on jogs in the morning as well; maybe you could go with them.”

Peter had been joking about the Bahamas, but judging from Tony's response, the place they would end up going to wouldn't be too far off from there. He supposed Tony could afford it, since he was Tony. 

"Okay. That would... be nice." The jogs sounded especially nice. That would be his best chance to get a look around the place and try and figure out his best vantage points for his escape. Plus, it would be nice to get out and get some fresh air. "Thanks, I guess."

* * *

A few days passed, and frankly, Tony thought things were going okay. 

Okay enough he’d given the kid a short leash. He let him run with Bucky in the mornings the past few days, and gave him a whole stack of books he was devouring. He wasn’t even testing the waters or sassing him that much—at least not pushing him toward his limit like he was before. 

He was honestly looking forward to their little getaway this weekend. It was only planned to be three days, but it could be more, depending on how things went here and there. He was never fond of being away from his business dealings for long, though, even though he trusted his crew implicitly. 

He was just putting the final preparations together with Steve for the trip when Bucky burst in, expression dark, and he knew before he said it that Peter ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter gets punished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! Please enjoy this new chapter and let us know what you thought! :)

Peter could feel his heart thumping hard enough to hurt his chest, and his throat felt raw with each breath he took. In retrospect, running away probably wasn't the smartest thing in the world. Definitely not in the middle of the night, because it would be dark soon, and when it was dark, it was cold. 

But he was a stupid, stupid kid who did stupid, stupid things, and maybe his stupidity would get him somewhere. If he didn't take the chance, how would he ever know?

He'd been trying to get a few good glimpses around his surroundings on his morning jogs with Bucky—which had actually been surprisingly pleasant—and hadn't come up with much. But he knew that if he kept running across the field, he had to get somewhere. It just wasn't possible for there to be field, and only field. Was it?

Would Tony have known that he was running by now? Had anyone found out? They probably had. 

Peter cursed as he tripped on a rock, his foot stinging from the scrape. He shot a glance over his shoulder before pausing to try and take a look to see if he was bleeding. Yeah, that was another thing. He still hadn't _earned the privilege_ of wearing clothes like any normal human being, which was just lovely. 

"Ow," he muttered to himself, rubbing the side of his foot. Not bleeding, just a small scrape. Thank god.

Tony had sent most of his men that were in the house at the moment out after him, going back to his office to wait. He had half a mind to go track him down and drag him back himself, but maybe seeing half his crew after him would scare the kid enough to do some good.

He settled in to wait, already debating how best to punish him. He’s not particularly thrilled about it, especially with how well things were going, and what he was trying to plan, but... What other choice did he have?

When Peter was done massaging the pain out of his foot, he straightened up, only to hear running footsteps behind him. He yelped and tried to take off, but was tackled to the ground. 

“Let go of me!” he shouted, trying to twist out of the grip on his arms. “Fuck!” 

Long story short, he was dragged back to the house, and to make things worse, he realized that he’d just been running in large circles around the parameter. That was fucking great, wasn’t it? He should’ve known. Shit always looked different at night. 

And now, he had to face Tony, which was something that he was dreading with every inch of his body.

* * *

Tony wasn’t happy. By the time they caught Peter, he had a plan, and frankly it was one Peter was _not_ going to like. 

He waited in his desk chair until Bucky hauled him in, stalking over and pulling out his gun. Not that he had any intention of shooting the boy tonight; but he was furious enough the threat didn’t feel unjustified. 

He cracked him across the cheek with the barrel of the gun, then grabbed his hair, jerking his head back and pressing it to the underneath of his jaw. 

“You just had to do it, didn’t you?” Tony growled, _dom_ emanating from every pore. The only time Tony lost control of his presentation was when he was very angry, and this definitely crossed that line. “Don’t even try to answer. Your best bet right now is to say nothing but _yes, sir_ and take the punishment you’ve _earned_ like a big boy, or so help me, kid, you’re not going to like the alternative. If you think a lack of clothes or light was a hindrance, I’ll make sure next time that you can’t walk, and not just because of the spanking you’re going to get.” 

He stepped away and motioned for Bucky to drop him, then waited until the other man left the room. “Sweatshirt off. You won’t be needing it. Then come to me.” He settled in his desk chair again, eyes following Peter’s every movement, body tense and coiled like a snake.

Peter's cheek was aching from the hit and he stumbled as he hastened to strip off his sweater. God, he was going to _hyperventilate and die._ He'd really done it now; Tony was _pissed._

He dropped the sweater on the floor and hurried across the room, going against every muscle in his body that screamed in protest at going near what was clear danger. "I'm sorry," he tried, hating the quiver in his voice as he eyed the gun shakily. "Please don't... I don't..."

Tony felt bad, for a split second. The kid was obviously scared, and he reminded himself that no, Peter didn’t ask for this. And he understood that. But that doesn’t mean he can put up with _this._

“I thought I told you not to apologize when you didn’t mean it. Don’t I look mad enough?” Tony snapped. He twirled the gun around his finger, catching it and spinning it repeatedly. “Come over here. Undo my belt and my tie and take them off.”

With shaking hands, Peter obeyed, biting back the response that no, he really had meant it, Tony was just feeling too _mean_ to hear it. He wondered if this was the moment Tony would... _no._ He shouldn’t follow that train of thought. But why else would he tell Peter to take off his belt and tie? 

He fumbled with the belt several times, shooting looks that he knew were full of terror the longer he took, but managed to get it undone. He stood there in front of the man with the tie and belt in his hands, swallowing hard. He wanted to ask if he should put them down somewhere, but he couldn't muster up the courage to do so.

Tony finally holstered the gun when Peter finished obeying. He took both the belt and the tie from Peter, setting them on the desk as he finally stood. 

He studied the boy for a moment, then turned him around, taking Peter’s hands and planting them firmly on the desk, then kicking his legs further open, so they were shoulder length apart, leaving him bent a little so his ass is on display for him, the smooth line of his back long and uninterrupted. 

“If you move from this position, sweetheart, I’ll put you back, and we’ll restart. Tell me you understand, and then I’ll explain your punishment to you. Do you understand that? Yes or no.” He picked up the tie and wrapped it around the boy’s eyes, then paused, waiting for an answer. He’d considered gagging him, but really, his cries are probably going to be heard either way, and he thought Peter knowing that might just add to the lesson. 

The blindfold was largely unnecessary, but it would put Peter more on edge—and more in tune with his body, and right now, that was exactly what Tony wanted. This needed to hurt him emotionally and physically—enough that they won’t have to deal with this again.

Trembling, Peter nodded and whispered, "Yes, Sir." He gulped at the blindfold, tensing even more when his vision was obscured. Fuck, this was going to hurt, wasn't it? He'd be lucky to even be able to sit after Tony was done, if that was what the Dom had in mind. "I'm sorry."

Tony sighed, running a hand gently through the younger man’s hair. “When we’re done here, you may issue a formal apology—to me, _and_ my boys. If they all forgive you, and you take your punishment well, then you’ll be forgiven, and we never have to speak of this again.” He paused. “Do you understand that? Yes or no. Then I’ll explain the rules of the punishment itself.”

Peter tried not to flinch away from the touch, just focusing on keeping his breath as slow and steady as he could. "Yes." Then, he hesitated, and asked timidly, "What—how do I do a formal apology?" He wasn't planning on fucking it up when the time came.

“Just a sincere, respectful apology, Peter. We’ll get to it, in time.” He smoothed a hand down his spine. 

“Right now, I’m going to spank you with my belt. It _is_ going to hurt, I’m not going to lie to you. That’s the point. It will not break the skin, and the marks will likely be gone by morning, but the soreness is going to linger. Hopefully, so does the lesson.” 

He paused. “Make whatever noise or pleas you need to, but you _do not move._ ” Tony leaned closer to him. “Trying to run away inconveniences a lot of people and puts even more people in danger, _especially_ you. That’s unacceptable. That’s why this has to be so severe. And because this is a severe offense, you don’t get a safe word. It’s not supposed to be fun—and it’s not, for either of us, I promise you that.” He paused. “Do you understand what’s going to happen and why you’re being punished?”

Peter shuddered at the words. "Yes." _But I don't want it to happen._ "Just get it over with." He gritted his teeth, bracing himself and planting his feet flat firmly on the floor. He was _not going to move._

Tony pressed his lips together, but didn’t call him out on the sass, putting it down to fear—and reasonable fear, at that. So he let it go.

Instead, he stepped back, securing the belt around his wrist and folding it in two for maximum control over it. Then, quickly, and with a good bit of force, he cracked the belt across the sub’s ass. 

He didn’t stop after one, though. Drawing it out wasn’t going to change anything, and neither of them wanted to do this for long, he was sure. So he kept going, hitting his ass—and the tops of the backs of his thighs a few times, just to really make sure he was feeling it—over and over again. 

Peter was ashamed when he started crying around—what, hit fifteen? Twenty? He didn't know, but it fucking _hurt._

He'd actually never been on the receiving end of the belt before. He could scratch that off of his bucket list now, he mused dryly through his tears.

He stayed still, trying not to tense before the next loud crack. "Fuck!" he shouted, clenching his ass involuntarily when Tony stopped and all he could hear was his own broken, choked sobs. "Are— _fuck, are you fucking done now_?" He wasn't even trying to sass; he just had no mental filter at this point. "Please. _Fuck.”_ He broke into proper sobs now, and suddenly, he couldn't remember how the hell he'd thought escaping would be a good idea. He should've known there would've been no hope from the start.

Tony had done twenty-five hits. It might have seemed excessive—it kind of _felt_ rather excessive, but he wanted to make sure this really stuck, and the number was Bucky’s recommendation. He was the master when it came to this sort of thing, so Tony wasn’t going to argue. He had made sure to spread them out, though, and had given Peter a pause for breath in between the last few. His ass was a brilliant red with a collage of inter-lapping stripes when he finished, but he kept his word, not breaking the skin or leaving any marks that wouldn’t be mostly gone tomorrow.

Tony set the belt down on his desk, gently guiding the younger man up and drawing him in, tugging off the tie around his eyes and tossing it down as well. “It’s alright. We’re done.” He felt bad, he wouldn’t deny it, but hopefully, that was enough. Only time would tell, though.

“Shh. Come on. We’ll deal with the apologies in the morning. Let’s get you to bed.” Tony scooped him up, bridal style, and carried him back into the bedroom, murmuring soothing things under his breath the whole way. Whether Peter consciously _wanted_ his comfort or not, he certainly needed it.

Peter didn't bother fighting, just letting Tony place him on his stomach on the bed. He had half a mind to struggle up and go to the bathroom to inspect the marks on his ass, but in the end, he didn't. He didn't care enough, maybe. It wasn't like staring was going to get his ass to stop hurting faster. 

He just buried his face in his arms, stiff and tense to the point where his body hurt too, and said shakily, "I don't want to apologize to your stupid _boys_ tomorrow." Because he really didn't. 

Tony had told him to be honest. Well, he was going to be. He felt embarrassed, upset, and angry, and having to look them all in the eyes and apologize for trying to get out was just going to remind him of how helpless of a position he was in.

Tony laid him down and gently pulled the blanket over him, saying nothing for a few minutes. He wasn’t bothered by Peter’s resistance. Of course he was upset. 

“I know you don’t,” he told him, sighing a little and brushing his fingers through Peter’s curls. “But don’t worry about that right now. Here.” He retrieved a water from the minifridge and put a straw in it, bending it for Peter to take in his mouth easily. “You’ll feel even worse tomorrow if you don’t rehydrate. Drink, then you can sleep.”

Peter grudgingly sipped through the straw, then rested his head on his arms. His eyes felt sore and swollen, and his head hurt from crying. 

Tony couldn’t help but be a bit amused when the boy acted like he didn’t want the water and then downed almost the whole bottle in a few swallows without even seeming to notice. _Cute._

Peter sniffled. He was now more than eager to drift off to sleep now, shifting a bit when the blanket brushed over a particularly painful spot, and exhaled shakily. _Just sleep,_ he told himself. _No more thinking._ And that was exactly what he did.

Tony sighed, standing up carefully once he was sure that Peter was asleep before going out to deal with the men and finish the preparations that had been interrupted early by the boy’s escape attempt. Once everything was taken care of, he returned to the room, showered, and then crawled back into bed, asleep almost as soon as he laid down as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The place wasn’t huge, but it was still gorgeous, and nestled back in the woods far from the nearest city, it was plenty safe, and private. The gate surrounded the entire perimeter of the property, though no one could see it from here, right in the middle. 
> 
> “Oops, it’s green again,” Tony deadpanned as he shut off the car and got out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! :)

Peter woke up blearily, squinting at the sunlight that streamed into the room through the windows. He tried to sit up, then hissed, sensation reminding him what his ass had gone through the previous night. He gently laid a palm on his left ass cheek, trying to gauge the pain. There weren't welts or marks, like Tony had told him, but he was still a bit sore. Another gentle, searching touch to his cheek told him that he probably had a light bruise from where Tony had smacked him with the gun, but again, nothing severe. Weird. Not that he was complaining, but somehow, he'd thought Tony would be rougher, and _meaner._

He looked over and as always, Tony was already awake. Peter let out a small huff and buried his face in his pillow. Maybe if he stayed there long enough, he'd suffocate and pass out. "Morning," he muttered.

Tony had woken up early to make sure everything was in place and nothing had gone wrong, then returned to his room to make sure Peter was okay and still asleep. He waited patiently for him to wake up, figuring he needed it. 

“Morning,” he answered, bemused. “Rise and shine, sweetheart. We’ll be heading out soon, but you can rest in the car, if you’d like.”

 _Or I could just knock myself out so I don't have to go through the day,_ Peter thought, though he knew better than to say that aloud. Instead, he peeked one eye open and asked half-heartedly, "So I get to skip apologizing since we're leaving soon? There's not enough time to do that, right?"

“No. You get to do that, and then we get to leave.” Tony smiled wryly down at him. “Come on, up and at ‘em.” He stands up, himself, stretching. “You owe it to Bucky, at least. You used him, and you can’t deny that.”

Peter scowled but got up. "I didn't _use_ him," he muttered. "How would I? Me _using_ someone implies that I'm in a position of power, and you always like to go out of your way to remind me that that's not the case." He crossed his arms and waited for Tony to toss him a sweater. He hoped it was long enough that it covered any evidence of last night's punishment.

Tony crossed his arms. “You did use him. Look me in the eye and tell me you didn’t use your morning jogs with him the last few days to try to plan an escape route.” He knew he couldn’t do it, because it was true.

Peter's scowl grew and he glowered at the ground. "Somehow, I don't think Bucky has the capacity to get his feelings hurt. And even if he does, it definitely wouldn't be because of me." He rubbed a hand over his eyes, which still felt a bit sore from all the crying he'd done. "Just give me something to wear and I'll get it over with." He suddenly felt extremely tired, even more so when he thought about the travelling they were about to do. Where were they even going, anyways?

Tony frowned. “We’re all human, same as you, Peter. And irregardless, it was _wrong._ Now, I understand why you’re a bit cranky, but you need to curb your attitude and fulfill your side of the bargain before you get another ten lashings for the road.” He tossed him a sweatshirt and some boxers. “Put those on, and let’s go.”

Peter was actually surprised to see that he was given a pair of boxers, because shit, that was new. "No panties?" he joked, because that was what he'd lowkey been expecting from Tony. The man seemed to thrive off of putting him in his place. He quickly put them on before Tony could take them away, and pulled the sweatshirt on too. As always, too big for him. 

He looked at Tony expectantly as the man moved towards the door, and said, "You're not going to leash me so I don't make a run for it? Sir?" The honorific was, of course, just so he wouldn't actually get his ass beat for the snark.

Tony smiled wryly. “We’ll save the panties for where we’re going. And maybe by then the lace won’t hurt your ass. And no, I’m not going to leash you. I told you what will happen if you do it again. If you do, then you know what’s coming to you when we catch you. Your choice whether you want to risk it.” He quirked a shoulder and opened the door. “Now. Let's go.”

Peter obediently followed, and he certainly didn't make a run for it. Like Tony had said, he knew better. He was pretty sure last night would feel like a walk in the park if he tried again, and he wasn't going to risk it any time soon. 

"How many _boys_ do you have?" Peter asked, genuinely curious. "As in, how many of your men am I apologizing to?" His cheeks flushed at the prospect again, because fuck, that was just plain humiliating.

“This time? Just Bucky. Steve, if he’s with him.” He shrugged. “But I have a few. I’m lucky to have a loyal crew, numbering plenty for what I do.” He wasn’t willing to say much more than that on the topic, at least right now. Not without discerning Peter’s motives for asking, and last night so fresh in his mind.

He directed them to the correct room, knocking twice. That was all it took for Bucky to answer the door. The other Dom raised an eyebrow, silently, waiting for Tony to speak. 

Tony drew Peter forward, making him stand in front of him. “Peter has something he needs to say to you.”

Peter stared at the large man in front of him, mouth going dry in utter and complete trepidation. God, Bucky was _intimidating._ What if he said the wrong thing and Bucky demanded that he got a turn at beating Peter’s ass? What exactly was Tony looking for from his apology? Was Steve as intimidating and big as Bucky? Would he hunt Peter down later and demand an apology from him too? He hated the idea of that; he’d rather apologize once and forget about this whole incident. 

He opened his mouth to apologize, and all that came out was, “Um, hi. Where’s Steve?” 

Then he turned back to Tony, eyes wide with panic, because that was definitely _not_ the best way to start this and no matter how wary he was of the man, he knew Tony better than Bucky.

Tony steadied him, smirking a bit. “Apparently, he wishes to speak to both of you. Is Steve around?”

“He’s showering. Just got out of a session.” Bucky crossed his arms. “I can pass on a message.” He looked back down at Peter, eyes narrowed. “What is it, kid?”

Peter swallowed hard, shrinking back under the stare. Fuck, this was worse than he’d though it would be. 

“I—“ He stopped, cleared his throat, and stepped back so that his back was brushing against Tony’s front. In a weird, fucked up way, it was oddly comforting to feel his presence behind him. “Sorry. I’m... sorry. For causing trouble. I didn’t mean to.” _Yes, I did._

Bucky echoed his thoughts. “Yes, you did. But I’ll let you try again.” He waited, tilting his head. 

Tony suppressed a smirk. Bucky was being a hard ass on purpose. And, realistically, maybe a _little_ because his feelings were hurt. But hey, all the better to make the lesson sink in. 

Steve popped out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist, frowning when he saw them gathered at the door. “Buck, what—oh. Tony.” He came up beside Bucky. “Right, I forgot we were doing this.” 

Tony flashed him a grin. “Oh, we definitely are. There you go, Peter. Go ahead.” He squeezed the kid’s shoulders.

 _Assholes, the lot of them._ But he wasn’t really surprised. 

Peter threw a glare at Tony over his shoulder, then took the time to take in the sight of Steve. The man was a little less intimidating. His pecs were huge, Peter noted, and so were his arms, Jesus. But he didn't radiate _danger_ the way Bucky did, but that was probably because Bucky was just a whole new breed of danger.

This time, he shot a pleading look at Tony, but when he received nothing in response, he just turned back to the two men and said softly, "I'm sorry for running away. I shouldn't have. It was an inconvenience to you." He refused to call _himself_ an inconvenience. He turned to Bucky and added, "I'm sorry for... for using you." The words tasted bitter at the back of his throat, but he got them out without letting his indignation bleed through.

Bucky hummed, nudging Steve’s shoulder. “Cute how he had to size us up first, isn’t it?” he said in a mock-whisper. “It’d be cuter if he didn’t see us all as giant tools, though.”

“Don’t be an ass, Buck. Look, kid—” Steve fixed Peter with a look. Firm, but still kind. “It was an inconvenience. It was also incredibly irresponsible. Believe it or not, none of us wants to see you get hurt. That’s all.” He sighed, looking at Bucky. “Now tell the kid his apology is accepted and stop torturing him.” 

Bucky hummed, unimpressed. “I haven’t _begun_ to torture him yet. And this certainly isn’t where I’d choose to start. But fine.” He looked down at Peter. “We accept your apology. Don’t do it again.” 

With that, he closed the door. 

Tony hummed, clasping his hands together. “Well, that went better than expected, and now we can hit the road. What do you want for breakfast, kid?” He started guiding him toward the garage.

"Nothing," Peter muttered, shaken up from the interaction more than he wanted to admit. He hesitated, then changed his response. "Honestly? I'm really fucking craving donuts." Comfort food, who could blame him? 

He let Tony direct him compliantly, and added, "I hated that more than the actual belting."

Tony laughed, helping him into the car and starting it up. The comfort food didn’t surprise him; the last comment did. “I think you’re being dramatic, but yes, I could see why it was uncomfortable. Bucky was just hardballing you, though. I told you you hurt his feelings.” He shrugged.

"I did not!" Peter said, affronted. "Have you seen the guy? There's no way something like me could hurt his feelings. He doesn't even know me." He sat in the car petulantly, then asked half-jokingly, half-curiously, "You think he wanted to have a go at me as well?"

Tony sighed. “Well, you didn’t give him much of a chance to, now did you? And really, Peter, the outside muscle doesn’t protect the emotions inside.” He paused, then added, after a moment of thought, “And all jokes aside, no, I don’t. Bucky is a former government agent and assassin, Peter. His whole life is violence, and... well, his job under me didn’t do much to change that. But he doesn’t usually enjoy hurting people, no matter how good he is at it.”

"Oh." Peter sat quietly, then frowned. "If he doesn't like hurting people, why do you make him do it anyways? Seems a bit cruel to me." He tried to take a look outside as they drove, and as always, saw nothing but grass. "And are we going for donuts, or are you a health freak that'll make me eat five veggies a day? _Sir.”_ Couldn’t forget that. 

“I don’t _make_ him do anything. But that doesn’t mean that he particularly enjoys it, either.” Tony shot him a sideways look. “And yes, we’ll stop for donuts as soon as we get to the nearest shop.”

Peter didn't delve into the topic of Bucky any further, though he was still itching for answers to his burning questions. He felt content enough with what he'd already gotten. Plus, he had boxers on today, which was a delight. 

It didn't take long to get the shop and Peter squirmed in his seat. "Get me six," he demanded, trying to see if there was a menu outside or something. He wanted to save them for the next couple of days too.

Tony shot him a look. “Manners, Peter. And I intend to get a dozen, jeez.” He took them through the drive through. He ended up ordering two dozen for choice’s sake, and got them drinks as well.

Peter _beamed._ "You're the best," he said without even realizing it. He was too absorbed in picking out which one to eat, and eventually settled for an old-fashioned glazed. Classic. He took a big bite, made a pleased noise, and turned to Tony. "Where're we going anyways?"

Tony rolled his eyes, but he was obviously amused. “I know I am. And somewhere out of the city. A bit of a drive, but worth it.” He directed them back into the highway. “Get comfortable... if you can.”

"Sir, yes, Sir." Peter gave a salute, his mood escalating with each bite of the donut, and squirmed in his seat. "Did you bring clothes for me?" he asked, just to fill in the silence, then huffed a little at the discomfort from squirming. "You hit me too hard. My ass still hurts. How am I supposed to get comfortable when I'm sore?"

Tony shot him a look, torn between exasperated and bemused. “I didn’t bring clothes for either of us. Nor anything else. Everything we need is already there.” 

He paused, turning the radio on loud enough to be heard, but low enough to be background noise if Peter actually wanted to continue talking. “And no, I didn’t. I hit you as hard as was necessary. I told you your ass would hurt today.” He shrugged. “You didn’t think about how comfortable you would be before you acted, so why should I have? I can only care as much about your well-being as you do.”

Peter sulked at Tony's words and pathetically flopped over onto his side with a small huff. "How many hours is the ride?" he mumbled. "And are you going to make me pee in the bushes if I need to use the bathroom? Because, you know. You seem to live in a world where only grass exists. Don't you miss the city? I know I do. My place wasn't the best, but it was still home, you know?"

Great. Now he was getting all sentimental. With _Tony._

Tony just hummed. He caught Peter’s comment, of course, but for his sake, he doesn’t say anything about it, not wanting to put him in a foul mood again. 

“While you might be displeased to find out that where we’re going is still excessively green, you might be a little happier to note that there _is_ a bathroom. That said, piss me off too much, and that could be arranged.” He flashed him a dangerous grin. 

"Yeah, no thanks." Peter pulled a face. "I'm not a dog." He rummaged in the boxes and pulled out another donut. "Will you rub my back for me if I get a stomach ache from eating too many sweets?" 

Then he groaned and smacked the back of his head on the seat. "This is what happens when I'm _bored,"_ he complained, taking a petulant bite. "I can't shut up."

Tony just chuckled, amused. Okay, maybe he needed to watch how much sugar he was giving the boy, but this was undoubtedly entertaining, 

“I might,” he said simply. Then, “Since you’re not going to shut up, are you going to tell me anything else useful? Or should I just prod you with questions?”

Peter sidled a glance at him, curious despite the ominous words. "Define useful," he said, then added, "You'll probably have to ask the questions yourself."

Tony considered. What did he want to know? 

“Hmm. Well. Anything you think I might find useful. Or, is there anything you _really_ want me to know?” Tony glanced over at him, a little smirk toying at his lips as he teasingly added, “Kinks?”

Peter hesitated, sucking the inside of his cheek before saying, "Somehow, I had no idea that was the type of thing you were looking for. Thought you'd want to hear my sob story instead." 

He sucked on his finger where he had a smudge of chocolate from the treat, thinking. "I dunno. I mean, I guess... I like a lot of stuff." He flushed, suddenly feeling shy. "I'm not sure if I should tell you, though. God knows what you'd do with that information."

Tony chuckled dryly. “I’m willing to listen to your _sob story,_ of course. But I was only partially joking.” He hummed. “But it would be better for you to tell me. God only knows what I might do to try to find out, hm?” He was teasing again, trying to get him to relax some and get some information from him.

Peter froze at that, eyes flicking immediately to Tony's belt, and he winced. "I can tell you my story," he agreed, because he knew he'd be telling Tony _something_ by the time they arrived at their destination, and his sob story would be easier to tell than his kinks. "But I want something in return." He paused for dramatic effect, then— "Tell me where we are."

Tony raised an eyebrow. Not that Peter’s really in a place to negotiate, and he fucked up in about three different ways with that phrasing. But that just made it easier to answer. “Okay. But I still want to hear your kinks, after. And we’re in New York.” He shrugged. “Right now, somewhere on the highway. Not that that has anything to do with where we came from or where we’re going. Though both are still in New York State.”

"Hmph." That wasn't as much of a satisfactory answer Peter had been hoping for, but then he supposed expecting a satisfactory answer in the first place was where he'd gone wrong. "Sob story first, then?" He swept right on without waiting for an affirmative. "It's not that dramatic. Kind of boring, actually."

He hesitated, but then figured that any information he was about to tell Tony, the man would've found out on his own if he wanted to. Fuck it. "Parents died in a plane crash when I was little. Grew up with my aunt and uncle. I was the poor kid at school, and I did well in terms of studying, but we just couldn't afford the education once I graduated high school. Aunt May and Uncle Ben tried, though. Especially since I'm a sub. I guess they wanted to give me the most they could. I miss them." He suddenly felt his heart skip a beat, and he looked at Tony, fiercely demanding, "They're still alive, aren't they? They'd better be, or I'll be angry."

Tony, despite his sarcasm, listened attentively. Nothing he couldn’t have found out on his own, but it would be a lot easier to get the full picture now, at least. 

“You’d have to give me full names for me to look into them,” he said simply. “But perhaps I could, when we return.” He can tell him if they’re alive, he’s sure, but more than that... well, they’d cross that bridge when they came to it.

Peter scowled. "That's not what I meant. I meant if you got your _boys_ to kill them. I mean, isn't that the type of shit you do? That's how you make your living, isn't it? Killing people, torturing, blackmailing?"

Tony frowned. “ _Why_ would I have anyone kill your aunt and uncle? That would be ridiculous.” He looked over at him. “I didn’t seek you out, Peter. This was pure chance. And no, that’s _not_ how I make my living. Not even most of it.” He hated the way he immediately took offense, but the accusations barely made sense.

"Well, sorry to hurt your feelings, but you haven't really given me any indication as to why I shouldn't have thought that," Peter muttered, suddenly finding the floor of the car extremely interesting. "How _do_ you make your living, then? And would I be allowed to contact them if they're alive? Just to let them know I'm okay?”

Tony bristled. “I wasn’t aware I should be running all of my business through your watchful eyes to prove something to you,” he deadpanned. “And why would I trust you with anything? Information or outside contact? You literally tried to run away _last night.”_

"Why do you expect _me_ to trust _you_ after saying shit like that?" Peter retorted, stiffening. He hadn't intended for this to become so heated, but the resentment inside of him threatened to boil over now. "I knew I shouldn't have told you about them. I bet you're just going to use them as blackmail against me now. What's it gonna be, huh? Just tell me. I put a toe out of line, and you send Bucky on a little mission? Fuck off."

“Do you _hear yourself?”_ Tony looked genuinely aghast, unsure what the hell he was even talking about. “Shit like _what?_ That killing them would be ridiculous? I didn’t even know who they _were_ until you _just_ told me. I still don’t know their last names to find them; hell, I don’t know _your_ last name. And I thought I made it clear last night I was more than capable of controlling you without outside help. I have no need to bring innocent people into anything, Peter. Period.” He shook his head. “Fucking forget it.” He turned the radio up loud, not wanting to listen to him anymore right then.

Peter froze, processing Tony’s words in his mind. And yeah, shit, he’d done it again. Always blowing up and regretting it a few seconds later. 

He quietly listened to the radio, trying to gauge just how angry Tony was. They remained in tense silence for a few more minutes until Peter couldn’t take it anymore. 

Biting his lip, he said tentatively, “Mr. Stark?” He swallowed hard, then reached out to turn down the radio, then stopped, not sure if he was allowed to do even that. “Sir. I’m sorry. I don’t... I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking, I guess.” He hung his head, suddenly feeling tired now that his irrational rage had died down.

Tony was still too busy trying to puzzle out where he could have possibly gotten that impression to even notice he was being spoken to until Peter turned the radio down. He literally didn’t know who Peter’s guardians were, or if they were alive, and he certainly had no intention of harming them if they were. And of course, as a mob boss, he’d done dubious things, but he hadn’t made a fortune off of killing people. He owned plenty of legitimate businesses, and even his underground dealings revolved more around selling weapons than anything else. 

He blinked, snapping back to focus, then shook his head. “You’re always fucking _sorry_ , aren’t you? Christ. You don’t even make any sense.”

Peter shrank in on himself at that. “I know,” he said, wringing his hands. “Please don’t be mad. Sir.”

Why was he even so _upset_ at the thought of Tony being angry at him? Why did he care? Everything was just getting more and more confusing as time went on, and Peter suddenly felt like he was spiralling out of control, because _shit,_ he really _didn’t_ have control over anything now. Not even whether he got to wear pyjamas to bed, or what he got to do during the day.

Tony just shook his head, ignoring him. He didn’t reach out to turn the radio back up, but he returned his focus to the road, clearly not interested in whatever Peter had to say now. Clearly they couldn’t actually make mildly friendly conversation, so he wouldn’t bother. 

He knew that Peter was experiencing a lot of conflicting feelings, of course. But he’d hoped after yesterday his attitude would stop being quite so sour as he resigned himself to this for at least a little while. And really, biting the hand that fed you was never the way to go, happy or not.

Peter felt like he was going to _cry_ . God, he was so fucking _stupid_. They’d actually been getting somewhere, having a nearly normal conversation with jokes and banter, until he’d gone and fucked it up. Like he always did. 

He exhaled and sank back into his seat, ignoring the stinging at the back of his eyes. “I’m—” He stopped mid-apology, Tony’s words ringing in his ears: _You’re always fucking_ sorry _, aren’t you?_

Take two. He took a deep breath, planned out what he wanted to say before opening his mouth, and began tentatively, “I didn’t mean to be disrespectful. You... you didn’t deserve that. I just got scared. About all of this.” He waved a hand around at nothing in particular, just gesturing at himself. “And it’s just, horror stories I’ve heard—that _everyone’s_ heard—about you. I guess they’re not true though. If they were, I think I’d be dead already, not sitting in a car with you with a sore ass.” 

He rubbed the back of his neck, and braced himself for what he was going to say next. “I can make it up to you, if—if that’s what you want. Sir. You can give me another thrashing or something. Or maybe just hand me over to Bucky so he can use me as a punching bag.” He chuckled humorlessly. “That was a joke. Sor—yeah, a joke.” He was a mess.

Tony stared resolutely out the windshield and said nothing for a long few minutes. This was literally ridiculous. 

He heaved a sigh. “I’m well aware that I _can_ do whatever I want, but contrary to popular belief, I don’t spend all my time planning my next violent encounter and the quickest way to make it happen. And Jesus, kid, I know I’m not a good guy, I didn’t need you to tell me that, and I’m not going to start claiming I am now, but I am fucking _trying._

“And no, I don’t need you to promise to _make it up to me_ when you obviously don’t mean it and have made it exceedingly clear you don’t want it. So I’ll just go forward with my plan as it was to dominate you in some form so that you don’t suffer a drop and you don’t have to get _raped.”_ He threw the word from a few nights ago back at him, rolling his eyes. He hated that the thought alone made him rather sick. Call it trauma, but he’d stayed out of trafficking for a reason.

Peter meekly ducked his head. “I—what if I _do_ want to make it up to you? Sir? I just...” _feel guilty._ And he wanted it to go away. “Are you very upset with me?” he asked, hating how his voice quivered with unshed tears. He _hated_ how emotional he got.

Tony sighed, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t mean to upset him, and he was inclined to say fair's fair, but even he has to admit there’s a difference when Peter’s obviously afraid, not just annoyed. 

“Christ, kid. Yes, I’m irritated. Don’t worry, I’m done with the punishments for the weekend. You don’t have to pretend to be remorseful to keep me from hurting you.” Suddenly he just felt tired, and it probably showed, but he didn’t care. “You’re hardly the first to call me these things, and it’s not as if I can be _me_ and still have any feelings at all, right?” He looked away.

“That’s not what I’m doing though!” Peter protested tearfully. “I’m not pretending! _Please,_ Mr. Stark!” He slammed the knob to turn the radio off, consequences be damned, and practically begged, “You’re not listening to me.”

“Oh? And why would I assume it was anything else?” Tony scowled when he turned off the radio. _“Why_ did you do that? I _was_ listening to you and then you decided that you were just going to verbally attack me in every possible way you could during our short conversation, so no, I don’t have much particular interest in listening anymore.”

“But I’m trying to show you I’m sorry now!” Peter responded, angrily wiping away his tears with his arm. “I just got angry, okay? I’m—I just _miss them so much.”_ The tears broke through then, and he felt pathetic, but he let them come. “I’m sorry I took it out on you.” He shuddered, then asked pitifully, “Mr. Stark? Do you want me to stop talking?”

Tony sighed, feeling exhausted. “No. You don’t have to stop talking.” He sounded tired, even to his own ears. “And I understand it hurts. I do. But I need you to understand that I had nothing to do with what happened to you, Peter. Frankly, human trafficking repulses me. And there’s a difference between feeling these reasonable pains about these things and accusing me of being the source of them.”

“I understand,” Peter promised. “I do. I won’t do it again.” And he wasn’t going to, because Mr. Stark’s cold rejection upset him more than anything else they’d discussed before. He figured the man was getting sick of his apologies by now, though, so he just rolled back into his seat and pulled his knees up to his chest. 

He wasn’t supposed to do that. He remembered learning about it in school. If they got into a car accident, Peter‘s legs would be smashed to bits. Sad. He just pulled them tighter to himself and rested his head on his arms, trying to will the tears away. He really hoped the ride wouldn’t take much longer.

Tony just shook his head, because frankly, he didn’t really know whether to believe him—on _any_ account, the attitude, the accusations, or the running away—but he didn’t want to argue with him anymore. 

Their pleasant weekend was already off to a great start. Now he just wanted a nap. 

“Whatever, kid. Another half hour or so and we’ll be there.” He clicked the radio back on, though at a more moderate volume this time.

"Yessir." Peter didn't raise his head for the rest of the ride there, feeling absolutely miserable. It was clear that Tony didn't want to speak on this any further, and he didn't want to risk angering the man by continuing to push for conversation when he'd been the one to fuck it up in the first place. He only looked up once the car stopped, and looked over at Tony uncertainly.

They were in front of a large gate that blocked the driveway and the entrance to the property. Tony pulled out his phone and unlocked it remotely, since he has the ultimate control over all the security systems. Then he drove them in, up the long but surprisingly smooth driveway, through the forest around them until he reached the cabin at the end. 

The place wasn’t huge, but it was still gorgeous, and nestled back in the woods far from the nearest city, it was plenty safe, and private. The gate surrounded the entire perimeter of the property, though no one could see it from here, right in the middle. 

“Oops, it’s green again,” Tony deadpanned as he shut off the car and got out.

"Why am I not surprised?" Peter responded flatly, following Tony's movements to get out of the car. "So. Is this your secret hideaway?" He wanted to make a beeline for the cabin because shit, even if was miserable right now, his excitement was unable to be contained. He'd always wanted to go camping, but had never had the chance to in the past.

Tony hummed, not even looking at him. He headed for the cabin, feeling tired. Particularly too tired for the tour and maybe even the swim in the lake he’d originally considered offering. Now he felt like he couldn’t trust him and didn’t have the energy for whatever might happen there. 

“One of them, I suppose, if you want to see it like that.” Tony shrugged, unlocking the door with the code and heading inside.

Peter followed him, shoulders sagging when he realized that Tony was _still_ upset. “What are we going to do here, Mr. Stark?” he asked quietly, taking in his surroundings. The inside of the cabin was cozy. “Can we...” He stopped, subdued, unsure if he was just supposed to stay quiet now.

Tony shrugged, stripping off his shoes and hanging up his jacket near the door. “I don’t know. I had intended it to be a pleasant weekend, but it seems like you’re not going to be happy no matter what I do, so.” He shrugged. “I got up early. I’m going to lie down for a bit. I don’t care what you do. But just in case you’re _really_ stupid enough to think about it—” He fixed him with a look. “The entire property is electronically gated and you don’t know the code. Also, don’t go swimming by yourself. It’s not safe.” Then he turned away, heading to the bedroom.

Peter stared after him sadly, fidgeting with his fingers. When he saw Tony disappear into the room, he was left in silence, and he suddenly found himself feeling more alone than he ever had.

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